Sarra & Weiryn: An Untold Story
by one.twilight.sun
Summary: He was tall and strong.  His hands large but gentle.  And his eyes...his eyes burned me to the very core. - How Daine's parents got together
1. Part One: Chapter 1

**Part One: Chapter One**

The night was aglow from the large bonfire burning at the edge of Snowsdale. A slim figure stood in silhouette of the blaze, the flames lending a red tint to her gold hair. Sarra stared blindly into the fire, feeling tears burning at the back of her eyes.

Though this was a night of happy feasting and song, Sarra felt without cheer. She had fought against it throughout the entire day by keeping herself busy with the preparations for the night—the picking of flowers, baking of bread and stirring of pots of stew which had engaged her hands and mind enough to keep melancholy thoughts at bay. But when dark fell, the aching loneliness seemed to slip past her defenses.

Seeing her friends go off into the night with their own admirers and suitors opened up an emptiness inside her that she didn't know how to fill. She knew she was just seventeen, at the beginning of her life but all the same, the ache inside her wouldn't ease.

Abruptly she turned from the fire and ran a frustrated hand through her curls. Moping about everything was doing no good, her practical nature finally reasserting itself. She walked toward the edge of the wood and entered the shadows, deciding a short walk would clear her mind. The trees lightly rustled in the night breeze, giving off the clear scent of spring green. Sarra could feel her spirits lighten, her mouth curved into a slight smile.

The fragile calm of the dark was suddenly broken by a harsh whisper and a rough hand on her wrist. "Sarra."

Her heart dropped as she recognized the voice. The pressure on her wrist tightened as she was pulled around to face Rocham. Rocham was an ardent pursuer of Sarra in addition to being the last man Sarra would ever consider marrying. He was a drunk who would never admit to it and was known for his explosive temper. In addition to that, Sarra felt cold each time she met his dark eyes—there was something about Rocham that was evil.

"Sarra," he repeated, his rank breath hitting Sarra. She turned her face away.

"Let go of me." She took a step back, trying to pull her arm away but his grip tightened almost to the point where it would create a bruise if he held for a moment longer.

"You're always pushing me away, Sarra." His tone chiding, as if speaking to a wayward child. He pulled on her arm and she stumbled a bit forward. She hated the way he said her name, the "_S_" coming out like the hiss of a snake. She tried to wrench her arm free again but this time he anticipated her and brought his other hand up to grab the back of her neck as he tugged her captured arm. There was almost no space between them now. "You know I only want to take care of you pretty Sarra."

The pressure on the back of her neck increased. She fought to keep her body away from him. She could feel her heart beating faster in fear as the acid taste of bile rose in her throat. In desperation, she took the only avenue she could see open. She brought her knee up hard into his groin, stepping on his foot as soon as his grip loosened on her. As he bent over in pain, she gave him a hard push, for good measure, and turned in the opposite direction, running deeper into the woods.

She knew she was making too much noise as she ran but she didn't care. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible. The tears she had held back ran freely down her face, as she tried without much success to hold back the sobs. Her earlier depressing thoughts came back in full force. The only man who ever seemed to be interested in her was the one man that she would give anything to never have to see again.

"Sarra!" Rocham's voice echoed through the woods. She stopped, not wanting to have him hear her position, her breath coming in and out in small gasps as she tried to stop her tears and catch her breath. She looked around, searching for some place to be safe. Spotting a tall oak next to her, she grabbed onto one of the lower hanging branches and swung herself up, climbing as far as she could go before the branches grew too close together for her to move any further.

Choosing a wide and sturdy looking branch, she sat on it, gathering her skirts close to her feet and laid her head on her knees, trying to slow her breathing and calm herself. She could just wait him out, hoping he would grow tired of the fruitless chase and go home.

After some minutes passed, Sarra started to feel a sense of security creep over her when the tree beneath her shook with a sudden force and she was almost unbalanced from her seat. She grabbed on to the sides of the branch beneath her, keeping herself from falling. She looked down and flinched as she made out Rocham's leering face below. "Thought you could hide, sweet Sarra?" He shoved the tree again. Her grip slipped and she felt herself sliding sideways. In trying to rebalance herself, she grabbed for a branch above her head that, to her horror, broke and she came crashing down through the lower branches only to be caught in Rocham's arms.

The shock of having fallen and suddenly landed gave Sarra pause until she recalled who was holding her. She struggled to get out of his grip, hitting his shoulders and trying to kick her way out of his hold. "Let go of me!" she screamed. "Get your filthy hands off of me!"

Rocham laughed and brought her closer to his chest, pinning her arms in the process. His face bent down to hers and she could feel her eyes widen in fear. She was about to be raped and she didn't know how she was going to stop him. The crazed look in his eyes told her that there would not be much mercy for her now.

Just as his meaty lips were about to crush into hers, his face so close that she could practically _taste _his foul breath, she heard a savage growl and Rocham's head abruptly snapped back as if his head had been grabbed from behind. There was another hit from behind that sent Rocham stumbling forward, his hold on Sarra loosening so that she fell to the ground in a confusion of skirts and limbs with Rocham's heavy weight on top of her. That did not last long as Rocham was lifted off of her and his body thrown into the tree that Sarra had just minutes ago been attempting to hide in. Through the tangle of her hair, she could make out a dark figure go swiftly to Rocham's prone figure, pick him up by his throat and pin him to the tree. The figure's other arm reached out and took hold of one of Rocham's hands and with a sickening crunch and a cry from Rocham, broke the bones in his hand.

The tall stranger still had Rocham by the throat and the man ruthlessly slammed Rocham's head against the trunk once more. "You listen to me," a rough low voice spoke, "I'm only going to say this once and this will be your only warning: touch her or any other woman like that again, and I will hunt you down and kill you. You understand?" Rocham was grabbing at the stranger's arm with his working hand and the grip eased back enough for Rocham to nod.

"Good." The dark figure let go of Rocham completely and stepped away. "Now go." The words were quiet but still Sarra heard a wild note in the man's tone, as if he was controlling some violent urge to do more damage but just barely keeping himself in check. Rocham must have heard it as well because he scrambled back to his feet and took off into the woods, not sparing Sarra even a glance.

She looked at the tall dark stranger whose back was still turned to her. She noticed that all he was wearing to cover himself was a loincloth, the rest of his body exposed to the night. His back was broad and muscled, his arms and legs corded with muscle. His hair was dark, the moonlight not strong enough to fully penetrate the shadows that he was standing in.

Sarra realized that she was still lying on the ground and made a movement to get up, only to give a sharp hiss in pain as the raw skin on her arms and hands from her earlier fall rubbed against the ground. In an instant, firm but gentle hands took hold of Sarra's arms and back and lifted her to her feet. She instinctively brought her hands up to steady herself and came into contact with warm solid flesh that sent an instantaneous awareness of _something _that had Sarra's toes curling and her body thrumming alive. A soft gasp escaped her lips and the large hands on her elbow and back tightened, seemingly in response to her own reaction to his closeness.

She gazed at his large chest not quite wanting to meet his eyes just yet and noticed that his skin was browned from the sun but also had streaks of green running across it. Her hand made an involuntary movement, tracing one of these streaks and the muscles underneath her hand jerked. Her hand immediately left his skin and her gaze moved up.

And met the eyes of a god.

_Author's note: I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry it has taken me a long time to update! Don't despair! I was just finishing some other stories and will be well in progress on this one very very very soon!_


	2. Part One: Chapter 2

**Part One: Chapter Two**

Weiryn had not been in this part of the woods in many years. So caught up in the comings and goings of the Other Realm he had neglected visiting this portion of his domain until a certain Badger had reminded him. He had come to the northern area on Beltane, when the barriers between the two worlds were thinner, enough substance to them that you could feel them, like a rough piece of paper drawn across your skin, but thin enough for the lesser gods to make their rounds.

The night had been quiet, uninterrupted except for the mortals parading about in celebration to their baser instincts, some in deference to the gods. Weiryn knew he was being a bit harsh, but he was tired. Tired of his duties and responsibilities as a deity. These were private thoughts however, not something he would ever voice aloud, maybe to one of the Animal Gods, but not in his Realm. Sometimes he felt what was the use of protecting and helping these humans, these beings who were selfish with no care to anyone but themselves, turning their backs on the gifts that the gods had given them, that had been provided to them, calling it physics or other nonsense names.

The man he had just run off was a prime example—preying on women as the weaker sex. Thinking to make a quick go at it with a girl who was hiding from him, obviously not a willing participant. This had sent Weiryn's already foul mood into a black storm and he had had to rein himself in from actually killing the man.

He had stood there as the sniveling coward ran off, trying to bring his anger under control but then had heard the girl's hiss of pain and had helped her up, feeling her smooth arms then her soft hands on his chest and Weiryn had an instant primitive reaction to her. What was this? Who was she? Her quiet gasp had escaped that wide pink mouth, her wide blue eyes meeting his in shock, taking in his changing hunter eyes, the antlers.

And she had fainted.

He instantly corrected his grip on her to catch her before she fell to the ground, bringing her body right up to his. He mentally groaned as he felt her soft curves against him. He moved her so that her head was over one arm and her legs dangling over his other, her face instinctively moving to face his heat which Weiryn could feel turning up a notch higher.

What was it about this small creature? She was a maiden by all accounts, an innocent, yet he was acting more like some wolf in mating season. Determined to put her aside towards the edge of the forest of the nearest village for her to be picked up and just wash his hands of her he started moving in the direction he had seen the bonfires earlier. The sudden jostling brought a whimper of pain from the golden-haired girl and he looked down, trying to pinpoint what had happened.

His gaze took in her ankle which seemed to be at an odd angle and he softly cursed. A strange feeling of accountability swept over him. If he had come sooner than her fall from the tree…if he had spotted the abusive man earlier…he shook his head. No use in going over that at this point. The night was to be over in a few hours and Weiryn knew what he could do to make it up to this poor girl. It wasn't everyday she was manhandled, chased through a forest like a deer for the kill and then came across a god.

His decision made he walked twice around an oak tree switching direction just before the third revolution and stepped into the Other Realm. He would repair her ankle quickly, quietly deposit her in the nearest village and be done with it. He would do all of this before she woke up so that he was not tempted to do anything further, as if he would be tempted to do anything further considering that humans were beneath him as a god but with the earlier…reaction he had to her, he wasn't up to testing himself.

_

* * *

_

_Author's Note: It's a bit short but I wanted to get something out on this story for y'all. * Merry Christmas everyone! *_

_OK, I have writer's block. Someone help!  
_


	3. Part One: Chapter 3

**Part One: Chapter Three**

The Badger came across him as he sat there staring at the slight figure on his bed. It had been an unplanned and possibly dangerous maneuver to bring her here. Though he would only have her in this Realm long enough to heal her injury, the possibility of a Greater God finding the mortal here and the penalties resulting became more real with each passing minute. There was also the time difference between the two worlds—time could slow down or rush by in the Upper Realm without regard to the hours and minutes that passed in the Human Realm and he could inadvertently return her to her world only for her to find out a hundred years had passed.

The girl made a sound of distress and moved as if struggling against invisible bonds. It would be several hours yet before she woke. The transition was hard on the human body and had possibly made her injury worse. He glanced at her ankle, the swelling seemed to have become larger, the skin bruised to a dark purple.

His gaze moved up from there to take in the pale skin exposed by her skirt, her knees just covered by pale pink cloth. His eyes took in her generous curves up to her delicate-featured face. She was no raving beauty but her features were pleasant to look at, lips a rosy red, her lashes dark and long and, from what he could recall, she had dark blue eyes. However, there was something about her that called his attention and, he admitted to himself, called other parts of him as well.

"Weiryn! What's this?" came a gravelly voice next to him. Feeling like a Peeping Tom caught, he turned his head to take in the bulky form of the Badger God. "You've brought one of those silly female creatures into your home. What possessed you? You know if you want to have a bit of fun, you keep it to the Lower Realm." The dark eyes turned on him with a hint of reprimand in them.

Annoyed that he was being treated like one of the Badger's errant pups and perhaps more annoyed because the Badger had reason to, Weiryn abruptly stood up to look down on the Animal God. He knew he was using his height in his favor and knew that it was a childish tactic.

The Badger was unperturbed by the Hunter God's behavior and turned his face towards the bed to take in the girl. "I am not dallying with this mortal. She was injured by one of her males and I had stepped in too late to help keep her from being harmed. She is here because—" and here he stopped because, in reality, Weiryn didn't know why he had brought her to his home when he could just as easily healed her in the woods.

The Badger looked back at him when he abruptly cut himself off. "Because?"

Weiryn turned away from both the Badger and the bed to face the window. His hand came up to run through the dark curls at the back of his head, just stopping before his hand hit his antlers. The Badger watched with interest. The god was exhibiting more emotion than he had seen in ages. "I don't know why. She had tried to stand on her own and couldn't and I held her up. And then she had looked at me and fainted and I caught her and brought her here. It wasn't a fully thought out thing."

The Badger snorted and shifted his feet. "Well, why don't you get on with it now, then? She's here and thankfully unconscious and she could be back home, none the wiser."

Weiryn turned back to him and met the Badger's all too intelligent eyes. "I've tried." He moved back over to sit next to the Badger, resting his arms on his knees as he leaned forward and looked in the direction of the unknowing guest. It wasn't in him to admit defeat but the situation was getting stranger by the minute and Weiryn was caught up in trying to understand it. "When I first got here with her, I put some power into her and was fought back by something in her. She has the Gift. It looks to be mainly healing magic so I don't understand why her magical defenses seem to be stronger than other mortals."

The Badger bobbed his head and made his way over to the girl, positioning himself near her face and breathed across her. The girl automatically moved her face away from him. The Badger huffed and turned back to Weiryn. "She's got a strong healer's magic and a strong defense against outside magical healing but I think she can be helped by non-magical means." He paused, seeming to hesitate in delivering his next piece of news. "She's also got a fever. The transition must have weakened her more than expected."

Weiryn started and moved closer to the bed to verify for himself. Her face was flushed red and when he gently laid a hand on her forehead, he could feel that she was burning up. He cursed beneath his breath.

"Well, I guess your girl is going to be here a bit longer than expected, hm? You'd better get something together that she can take to bring down her fever. I'll get a cool rag for her skin." And with that the Badger waddled out the door. Weiryn was sure that there was an amused note in the Badger's tone.

* * *

Everything was too hot. The world was pressing down on her. She didn't understand what was happening and because she didn't, she was afraid. She didn't like the fact that she was. She also didn't like that she couldn't open her eyes or move. She didn't like that she felt unfamiliar hands lifting her up, trying to put warm broth in her mouth, running a cool cloth across her. She tried to fight against whoever it was but she was too weak. She had felt a surge of power at one point but instinctively fought against it and then it had gone, leaving her feeling exhausted.

For a while, she had been in the dark, unaware of what was happening with her or outside of her. The last thing she remembered was preparing for the spring celebration. Then, that foreign power had laced her body with fire and she'd had to fight it off so she could rest. And now, her healer's knowledge told her she was burning up with a different fire, a fever that brought aches to her bones and a consuming tightness to her chest. She would almost struggle awake, only to be pulled under into nightmares of rough claws scratching at her, sharp teeth and hot breath across her face and dark, glinting eyes filled with maliciousness.

There would be a few moments of relief in the pair of gentle hands that seemed to be taking care of her but when they were gone, she was left to face the sticky dark, alone, as she always seemed to be.

_Author's Note: I know it may seem that I'm taking a bit to get fully going on this but take heart, please, on the fact that I've planned out the next few chapters and know exactly where this is going! Just to make sure I'm not getting my facts wrong, I'm going to be reviewing relevant parts of Daine's story. _


	4. Part One: Chapter 4

**Part One: Chapter Four**

Sarra could feel sunlight on her face. It was significant only because it had been so long, it seemed, since she had felt anything other than raging heat alternating with soothing hands. She found that she had to concentrate to open her eyelids, no longer was it an automatic function for her which distressed her more than a little. She could tell that her head was turned to one side and knew she wouldn't be able to move that if she wasn't able to lift her own eyelids.

Finally succeeding in opening her eyes, she was able to take in the rather odd picture of a badger's inquisitive face right next to her. For a moment, they just looked at each other and then the badger spoke.

"Good afternoon, dear." His (for it surely sounded like a "he") voice was gravelly and rough, like that of the old men in her village who had smoked pipes their entire lives.

Her Gift told her she'd just had a fever and was still recovering from it so Sarra thought that this might be the last dredges of illogical and bizarre dreaming that sometimes accompanied such illnesses. Still feeling weak and like her entire body was filled with lead, she smiled softly and greeted him back. "Hello, Badger."

She could tell he was amused by her but wasn't sure how she knew because it wasn't as if the Badger could smile. Maybe it was the twinkling in his eyes or the slight show of teeth. "You aren't dreaming, Sarra."

She made a noncommittal sound, mainly to placate him for she knew that in her world, badgers didn't speak. He huffed as her eyes moved past him to take in the curtain-less window where the bright warm sun was streaming in. She could see the trunk of a tree right next to the window and the stark blue sky beyond. The portion of the room in her view was quite spartan, just the wall, window, chair and Badger filling her view. The linen beneath her felt like cotton, not the rough homespun she used at home.

She concluded that she wasn't in her house. She wasn't too alarmed about it at the moment, ill-feeling as she was and the dreamlike presence that surrounded her. She couldn't remember how she had gotten here, the last clear thing she remembered was laughing with her friends during the feast.

But wasn't that the nature of dreams? She didn't know quite how they formed; the smoky strands surrounding her mind as she slipped into sleep until the threads created a tapestry in which her hidden desires and secret fears could be played out.

Closing her eyes she took stock of her own body, not really finding the strength to do any more than that. She had had a fever, apparently affected by an interfering power, one that she hadn't given permission to work on her. Her ankle was swollen, the muscle tender. Her hands felt itchy, the remnants of the scratches she'd—

_Rocham!_ Her body seized as she tried to get up, a horrified gasp slipping out between her lips, tears of pain escaping her eyes. The sudden movement had set off the muscles in her body, all now clearly communicating how hurt she was.

Through the gray haze, Sarra heard a word of power spoken next to her and those gentle hands, the touch that had given her the only comfort she experienced in a long while, were upon her, tenderly moving over her, bringing relief to her tightened limbs.

This didn't feel like any dream she'd ever had. She kept her eyes closed, only thinking of taking in air and exhaling, taking in and exhaling, reaching into the dark green magic that was her Gift and letting it encase her body, bringing calm. It wasn't much though, still so weak from something what had happened.

She hadn't ever met another person with the type of Gift she had, healing magic that allowed her to work with others but at the same time heal and defend her own body. Due to this, there wasn't much known on the defensive aspect of it. For instance, she'd just realized that her defenses were automatic but still took from the core of power she had, rendering her weak and feeling drained.

As relief settled in, she was able to think of something else than the burning and throbbing. The hands were no longer there though she felt a presence, a Someone, right next to her bed. And she was pretty certain it wasn't the Badger.

Slowly her eyes lifted. The first part of him she saw were his hands: large and very brown, nails cut ruthlessly short. Strong hands that looked to have handled a bow and arrow, grappled with bears and even torn trees from their roots. Moving up, she noted the dark hair on the tanned arms and his bare chest, the muscles large and distinct. Sarra could feel her ears burning beneath her hair and hoped that the blush wouldn't move onto her face. She'd never really openly gazed at a man's body before.

Reminding herself that the man was probably just staring at her stare at him, she moved her eyes up to meet his, bracing herself but still couldn't help her sharp intake of breath. Those eyes, so dark and intense, held the power of the earth and field, of animal instinct and wisdom, of death and continuing circle that was life. She was lost in the dark and pure green, the color of ancient trees; the sturdy and rough brown that formed the foundation of the world; the flashes of slate blue, the hue of the sky at midday and the flecks of burning gold, a flame captured from the sun.

She felt something in her reach out toward him, this god who sat next to her, whose own gaze was just as captured. Her Gift moved through her, desiring to connect with him, to feel a oneness that she had been minutely aware she was missing but never knew would be possible to find. His own hand reached up, almost as if he wasn't conscious of what he was doing, so caught up in the sudden spell that had surrounded them.

That is until a gentle but firm jaw closed around his reaching hand. "You damn god of pests!" the god swore as he shook the Badger off before bringing his other hand to massage the imprints of teeth out of his skin, glaring at the innocent-looking creature—or god, she supposed.

"Can't have any of that right now, can we?" asked the Badger, but didn't seem to expect an answer as he disappeared only to suddenly reappear on her bed, the warm weight of him welcome against her legs. She felt a bit disoriented, not only from waking up in such a strange place but by whatever had just happened with this being beside her. The imprint of centuries and the cosmos swirled in her mind and she closed her eyes, partly to sort through it and partly to prevent herself from seeking _his_ eyes out again.

After a few moments, he spoke. She loved his voice, the deep timbre at once ringing with the power of the forest and the song of the beasts. Growing up in Snowsdale, surrounded by girls who were prettier than her, boys who teased her mercilessly for her strangeness, alone except for her father, she would go out to a secret spot in the woods, just over the rise of a hill to the east and sit in a tree and listen, just listen to the sounds of life around her. The complicated yet simple existence of plants and animals.

"You're in my home. I brought you here after that man—" here the beautiful voice roughened, a growl underscoring his reference to Rocham, a sound which sent her heart pitter-pattering "—left. You had sprained your ankle and I thought it would be better to help you heal than leave you there on your own. Except—I couldn't heal you and then you got a fever." She opened her eyes to look at him, risking her mind to the onslaught once more. He wasn't looking at her though, his gaze instead focused outside. He sounded frustrated and annoyed, as if he didn't often get thwarted.

She smiled a little at this, privately amused. "Who are you?" she asked. Her people definitely had legends of the Gods but she wasn't well-versed in them, preferring to think that her life was controlled by herself and herself alone. She took in his antlers, growing out from his dark curly hair and the image tickled something at the back of her mind but she couldn't get it to come out to the light. She hoped her question hadn't offended him, thinking of some stories of gods punishing humans for being too arrogant.

His gaze slowly moved away from the window to meet hers. She braced herself for the power of those hunter eyes but as he looked at her, she could see that a shutter had fallen across his eyes, rendering them no less striking just without the earth-shaking passion. They stared at each other, she aware of something possibly between them and thrilled by it; he now knowing full well the connection between them and was stunned by it.

Again the question came to his mind: Who was she? _What _was she that she had this ability to see inside him so truly and without him even being aware of it; that she was able to hold eons of his existence in her small human mind and not be driven insane? She lay on his bed, looking all the world like a normal human girl and yet had the power to fight his own.

He knew humans. They cared for nothing more than what a god could give them, what they felt they were owed. There were few, the hunters, who respected the land and the other creatures that dwelt there or who even acknowledged his own existence as god over the region. Other than that, their thoughts were wholly involved with their home and family, sometimes not even including them. They were interested in how they could get ahead in life. He did not like them. But he did not feel the same way about this girl, this mortal. She had _seen_ him and had accepted him without one word being exchanged between them.

The Badger snorted from his place by her side, reminding Weiryn that the girl had asked him a question. Glancing away from her wide blue eyes to give the annoying god a look that communicated just how much he didn't appreciate his continued interference, he cleared his throat which seemed to have tightened up in the preceding moments. "I am known as Weiryn, God of the Hunt for your land and the surrounding region."

She repeated his name quietly to herself, her soft mouth forming the sound. Weiryn wanted to hear her say his name out loud, make this impossible situation more of a reality, bring even more of a connection between him and her. Before he could bring this urge under control, she happened to look back at him, her lips still slightly parted, the clarity of her gaze again cutting straight through him, and he could no longer deny his desire for her and the pull between them.

"Badger," he spoke quickly, standing up and edging closer to her side, not breaking their gaze, "you need to leave. Now." Amazingly enough, the irascible god complied without a word, disappearing into thin air. Weiryn barely noticed, so intent was he on the girl who was now sitting up in bed, her blonde curls falling to frame her face.

The air thick around them, the world completely gone silent except for her heart, his hunter ears picking it up, the rapid beat of which sent his own blood stirring. He noted the widening of her eyes; the flush making its way from under the collar of her dress, up her slim white neck and onto the smooth skin of her cheeks; the shallow breaths she was taking with her mouth. He sat carefully down on the edge of the bed, right next to where she was sitting, the mattress bowing gently to his weight. Her eyes had moved from his and focused on his mouth and the heat of her gaze was threatening to set him ablaze. She knew what he wanted and desired the same. Maybe even more.

He didn't even know her name yet but just knew that if he didn't kiss her now, didn't feel her breath across his lips, didn't _taste _her, his immortality would be in question, his world would never be right and he would never be complete. With all this running through him, he brought his hand gently up to her face, tilting it just so, and brought his lips down on hers.

And the world caught on fire.


End file.
